Selfish or Selfless?
by only-some-loser
Summary: It it had been real, there was no way he would have been able to kill Jack. Did that make him selfish?


**AN: I adored 3x11, so this tag was pretty easy to write. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

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The dirty agent had been handed off to the proper authorities, Matty and the rest of the team had been informed of what had happened, and they'd been to medical to get themselves checked out. Everything was back to normal, but Mac felt anything but. Sitting on Jack's couch with a blanket wrapped around him, and the man's presence by his side, he should have felt comforted, and safe, but he didn't. All he could think about was the stunt they pulled to get out. It was tearing his mind apart, and it was obvious that Jack knew he wasn't okay.

"Come on, kid, I know you wanted to go to Vegas, but we can reschedule," Jack said with a smile, even though they both knew that not getting to have their manniversary in Vegas was not what Mac was upset about. Still, it almost made Mac smile.

"Yeah, I know that wasn't gonna happen, after what did..." he trailed off. Waking up in a dungeon, shackled and drugged, was not something that Mac wasn't already used to, but faking Jack's death really did a number on him, as well as the knowledge that they left those CIA agents to suffer and die, albeit unintentionally. Mac just wished none of it had ever happened.

Jack sighed. "I know what you're thinkin'," he said, bumping shoulders with Mac. "And what happened to those agents wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine. We were ordered to leave because they were already dead. It wasn't our fault they weren't, and it certainly wasn't our fault that they went through hell afterwards. We were just following orders, and we had no way of knowing that they were still alive."

Maybe Jack was right - he really was, logically Mac knew it wasn't their fault - but that didn't mean he still didn't feel like crap for it. Jack's presence at his side helped, though. The man was right next to him, and Mac knew he was leaning against him, but he couldn't bring himself to sit up straighter. After everything they'd been through, he was exhausted, and all he wanted was to sleep, knowing that Jack was okay. That was the main reason why Mac had gone with Jack back to his apartment, and not his own house. He knew he would be having nightmares, and he didn't want to bother Bozer with that, especially if Leanna was going to be over. Jack was used to his nightmares, and sadly, all his neighbors were too. It wasn't that Bozer wasn't used to them, because he definitely was, but Mac kind of just wanted to stay with Jack for now. Faking his death had been difficult for him to stomach, because even though Jack was fine, he could have just as easily not been. If they really had been trying to get out by breaking down that door with the canister and makeshift crossbow, in his exhaustion, the cord could have easily slipped out of his hands and hit Jack instead of the door. Then it would have been real, and the decision whether or not to end Jack's suffering would have been a real choice that Mac would have had to make. The very thought of being faced with that decision brought tears to his eyes.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Jack asked, bringing his arm around Mac's shoulders and pulling him closer. He looked at him with concern, and love. That was Mac's undoing.

He quickly wiped at his eyes to stop the tears from falling before answering, "what if it wasn't fake? What if I messed up and you were dying and asked me to shoot you, and I just, Jack, I don't know if I- if I could ever-"

"Slow down there, kiddo, it's all okay," Jack interrupted, using that same voice he used on skittish horses back in Texas. Mac was too exhausted to be offended by that. Jack started to gently rub his back, and used his other hand to take Mac's in a firm grip. "I'm right here," he said, accentuating his words with a squeeze of Mac's hand. "You don't need to worry about that, because it didn't happen, and even if it did, it still wouldn't be your fault."

Mac just sat there for a moment, and let out a deep breath. He tried to focus on the calloused hand holding his, and the gentle rubbing on his back. But that didn't change the fact that he didn't know if he had it in him to kill Jack if the man asked him too, even if he were suffering.

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I don't think I could do it," he muttered, avoiding Jack's gaze. He stared at the hand holding his instead, at the thumb gently moving back and forth on the back of his hand.

"Do what, bud?" Jack asked, his voice just as calm as before. That was one of the reasons why he loved Jack so much. His partner was always so steady, a force that was always there to keep Mac from becoming unmoored. As selfish as it was, Mac didn't think he could ever kill him, no matter the cost.

"Kill you," he mumbled, barely loud enough for Jack to hear him. "I know I'm just being selfish, and I'm sorry, but I couldn't do it, I just wouldn't be able to, even if the world depended on it. I would rather kill myself than you, Jack, and I'm sorry," he said, his eyes filling with tears again. He squeezed his eyes shut to not let them fall, and clutched Jack's hand even tighter. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, turning his head against Jack's shoulder. His partner was everything to him, and he just couldn't imagine life without him. He didn't want to imagine that. Life without Jack would be worse than any nightmare his mind could conjure up, worse than any memories of Afghanistan or Cairo or other terrible missions gone wrong or his mother's death or anything involving his father. Nothing would be worse than losing Jack.

"Now you listen to me, kid, okay?" Jack paused, then moved away from Mac and sat on the coffee table, facing him. At first, Mac had to hold in his panic at the sudden lack of contact, but as soon as Jack sat down across from him, he gently took Mac's hands in his, and softly ran his thumbs along the backs of them. "Mac, look at me, kiddo," he said, his voice low and gentle. Hesitantly, Mac looked up, and made eye contact with Jack. He expected to see anger in his eyes, because Mac was being selfish and Jack had every right to be angry with him for that, but he didn't. Jack still only looked at him with a mixture of concern and love, and Mac couldn't fathom that. Growing up, whenever he was being selfish, people were always angry with him, especially his father, but Jack wasn't. Why didn't he look angry? He should have been angry.

"Why aren't you angry?" he asked. He just couldn't stop himself. He knew it was rude, because Jack had clearly been about to say something, and he was basically interrupting, but he just didn't understand it. Mac had just told Jack that he would rather the world burn than kill Jack. That was the textbook definition of being selfish, and Jack should be mad at him for damning the world for his own feelings, for Jack. But he wasn't mad.

Jack just sighed, and it looked like his heart was breaking. Why was that? Why did he look so sad?

"Because I have no reason to be angry," he replied, squeezing Mac's hands in his once again. "You are the least selfish person I know, Mac. You would give anything and everything, including your own life, to save people, to save the world. It's okay to draw the line somewhere, it's okay to want something for yourself." Jack looked down at their intertwined hands for a moment before continuing. "It is absolutely not selfish for you to not be able to kill your friend if they ask you too. And I promise you, Mac, I will never ask that of you. Never, okay?"

Mac nodded shakily in reply, not trusting his voice to remain steady. No matter what, Jack always amazed him. Maybe this whole emotional conversation was brought on just by trauma and exhaustion, but still. The fact remained that no one had ever loved him like Jack did. No one could be Jack.

His partner moved back to the couch from the coffee table, and put his arm back around Mac's shoulders. He laid back, and Mac laid back with him.

"It's okay, kid," Jack said, pulling Mac close so that his head was resting on Jack's shoulder. "I know we've had a rough few days, but it's okay, and I'm okay, and you don't have to feel guilty about anything, because nothing that happened was your fault. We only got out of there because of you." Mac turned against Jack and rested a hand on his partner's chest. He felt the man's steady heartbeat, beating strong. He wasn't dead, and he'd never been shot. He was okay. Mac hadn't been forced to kill him, and he hoped he never would, because that was something he just couldn't do.

They were both safe, and okay, and everything was going to be fine. With that knowledge in mind, Mac let his exhaustion take over, and felt his eyelids slipping closed. Jack continued to gently card his fingers through Mac's hair, but his ministrations were slowing. He was falling asleep too. Mac knew it was likely that they both would wake to nightmares throughout the night, but they wouldn't be real. Jack was alive, and Mac hadn't killed him, and that was all that really mattered.


End file.
